


Masks

by Silvermoonphantom (Daitoshi)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daitoshi/pseuds/Silvermoonphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Zuko snuck into the Pohuai fortress, he didn't expect to escape unscathed. They were legendary for a reason, after all. There's also this little problem about the Avatar mistaking him for someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Zuko grimaced behind his mask, crouching and leaping back in a flurry of blades and shifting black cloth. Spears lunged toward him with deadly intent, knocked aside moments later by the shining curved steel he wielded. This was ridiculous, freeing the Avatar after his nation captured it. It shouldn't matter who finally managed the deed, as long as their nation was safe. As long as the Avatar was restrained, it could not turn the land and water against them again. He had seen the boy taken into Pohuai stronghold by the Yu Yan archers. He should have felt triumph, but this dread curling in his gut could not be ignored. He was the one who needed to capture the Avatar. It was his duty, his mission, and the only way to restore his honor.

The Prince swept forward, knocking aside another spear as it tried to place itself between his ribs. His steel skimmed along the shaft, a quick twist cutting into the wood and splintering it into uselessness. He heard the shifting of armor behind him and jerked to the side, whipping his arm out to slash at the man behind him. Close quarters fighting wasn't his preferred method of combat, but he was thankful his Uncle had drilled it into him. Another spearhead removed from its shaft, the shocked look of the soldier curling his mouth into a small smirk before slipping back down into a frown.

He was surrounded, the urge to use his firebending stronger than ever. He barely restrained himself, twisting out of the way from another spear strike and blocking a second with a whirl of blades. It wouldn't do to lose the Avatar's trust before he had a chance to strike.

Barely visible through his mask's eye, he spotted a flash of yellow and turned to see the Avatar lunging down with a stolen spear, wind twisting toward him.

Honestly? He had made it this far, sneaking into this 'impenetrable' fortress and taking down the soldiers patrolling. They had snuck out together, and Zuko had hoped that would inspire at least a little loyalty toward the person who helped. Apparently not. What would nomads know about honor.

Feeling betrayed, he backed away from the first blast, jumping over the second. Swords at the ready, he ran through any tactics he could use against the child that didn't involve fire that would give him away or incapacitation that would leave them both at the mercy of Pohuai's soldiers. They needed to escape!

The boy's grey eyes narrowed, his slight body whirling around.

Zuko could feel wind twisting around his legs and his mind screamed at him to dodge somehow, but before he could move, he was launched airborn. Wind whistled bast his mask and his stomach dropped out from the sudden ascension, and the urge to flail was squashed without mercy. Either this was a ridiculously dangerous way to fling him onto the wall, or a roundabout way of killing him.

His eyes widened behind his mask as he approached the wall too quickly for his liking. With a quick twist, he hit the walkway and rolled to his feet, wincing at the jolt of pain from his jarred shoulder. Thankfully alive, mostly in one piece. Spirits, he was glad the boy had good aim.

Hearing the quick-paced march of guards on either side, he jumped into a backwards roll, leaping up in a wide-footed stance to confront them. His head whipped back and forth, mind whirling with this new situation. Three on either side, all spears, full armor. Only one of them looked young enough to be a new recruit, and another's stance left his left side wide open. Zuko's breaths were quick and sharp, adrenaline still shooting through his body from the quick ascension and the rushing of this upcoming battle.

The sound of a staff whistling through air was the only warning he received before slim legs wrapped around his torso from behind, lifting him into the air. His shoulder throbbed, but he straightened himself into a stiff board, knowing it would be better than a dead-weight to carry. They passed over soldiers scurrying about, a few of them pausing to yell and point out their position in the air.

The Avatar made sounds of stress and Zuko barely caught the glint of moonlight off an arrowhead in time to swipe it in half with his sword.

That shot had seemed to be the signal for other projectiles, and suddenly the air was full of arrows and spears. He twisted around, using swords and legs to push their deadly paths away from the two of them. From the yelp of the boy carrying him, his thrashing wasn't helping their flight.

The Avatar yelled all the way down from the sky, and didn't remember to release him until after they hit the ground. Zuko felt his breath whoosh out of his lungs when the boy crashed down onto him, both of their bodies bouncing up into a tumble that left him stunned for a precious moment. He tilted his head up, trying to assess their new position while sucking in air. The boy didn't seem harmed from the fall (Probably from his human landing pad) and scurried to grab the staff that had flown out of his grasp. Zuko pushed himself onto his hands and knees, chest still heaving, and prepared to come to the other's aid as two men burst from a lower level and charged toward the Avatar. He felt the stones quiver under his palms and looked backwards to see two more men running toward their position.

The Avatar's staff had been kicked off the wall, the boy was falling into a defensive stance and avoiding the quick slashes of a sword the guard aimed at him. The Prince darted forward, hooking his arms under the man and levering him to the side and off the wall, his gut twisting with the knowledge that these walls were too high to survive a fall.

He had just killed one of his people.

This was not what he wanted when he had begun the infiltration. It was too late to think of that now, the hopeful dream that they would have escaped without being spotted.

He turned to face two guards, trying his hardest to push away the guilt threatening to turn his arms to lead. He slipped through the two of them, blades slicing with the intent to disarm them. Anything was better than such a disgraceful death as falling.

The sound of wind filled his ears again

His heart clenched as the two men were flung off the wall, their yells fading along with their flailing arms into the shadows. As much as he disliked it, he tried to focus on the fact that this was a battle. Airbender or not, fighting on top of walls had the risk of casualties such as this.

Taking a moment to breathe deeply, he noticed men running toward the wall, flexible ladders in their arms. Of course they'd be prepared for these types of instances.

Hardening his heart, he dealt with the first to appear with a decisive kick to the chest, swinging his dao toward the next man, only to be blocked.

These were his men. His people. He was a prince. He was supposed to protect these men, not attack them. Confronted with the red and black armor, he couldn't help but remember the letters their commanders would have to send in the morning. The new widows and fatherless children.

He saw the entire ladder full of men pushed downward, their bodies tumbling away. The avatar was suddenly rushing at him, confusion setting into Zuko's expression when a commandeered ladder was shoved into his arms. A vaguely formed thought left him thankful for the mask obscuring his face. He really was far too expressive.

"Take this!"

The boy suddenly leaped off the wall, calling behind him "Jump on my back"

Not taking the time to think through all the miserable ways this stunt could end, he raced forward and pushed himself off the edge, feet barely hooking onto the ladder rungs, his body wobbling with the added weight of a ladder in his arms. The world tilted around him and adrenaline jolted through his body once again. The Avatar's arms moved furiously, pushing the ladder down and then hooking around a level and pushing his weight onto it.

They shifted upward with the spring of the ladder, the boy's frantic voice calling out again

"Give me the next one!" Zuko placed it in his hands, readying for the next switch.

Wild laughter threatened to bubble past his throat. This was absolutely insane! Using bendable ladders like giant stilts that circus performers used. He had to admire the boy's extraordinary luck, if not his daring audacity. His own arms were wrapped loosely around the smaller boy's shoulders, more to orient himself than any protection against falling.

Sudden light flared up beneath them, a firebender having blasted up the ladder. It was a good tactic, he thought absently, feeling the Avatar prepare to lunge from the burning ladder. He tightened his arms.

The boy scrambled forward, leaping toward the edge of the wall. Zuko could feel the air parting around them, boying them up just enough to gain a few extra feet. They approached stone and Zuko recalled their earlier tumble, not liking the idea of their positions being reversed.

They slammed into the side of the wall and Zuko could feel his larger frame crush the smaller one. Small hands scrabbled weakly at the ledge and fell away. Zuko's leg hooked around the boy's waist, one arm grasping the tattered orange cloak, his fingers clinging to the stone's edge.

His muscles strained, gloves sliding. He slipped. His breath caught as they tumbled down toward the ground, curling the avatar over his body to take the blow on his back. With an elbow to the rib, the boy's arm whipped out and a small cushion of air made the fall seem inconsequential. No wonder he didn't seem to care about sending people flying off tall buildings, if all his landings were this gentle.

Zuko shoved the boy off him, leaping up to prepare for another battle. His swords were drawn, body crouched low to start or avoid a blow. Teeth clenched when he realized the soldiers were unarmed, and that he would have to fight firebenders now, without the element of surprise. He heard the boy shifting slightly behind him, groaning.

The Prince lunged forward in a flurry of blades, pumping Chi into his movements as much as he could without actually producing his own flames. The soldiers punched forward, aiming at him directly and without producing a fire shield, he wasn't sure if he would be able to deflect them completely. Nevertheless, he spun his swords, feeling the force of his dao's created wind force their flames to deflect away from himself. With a spark of inspiration, he heated his own swords, using them as paths for heat, rather than as weapons to strike.

A hot blade would bend, after all. He didn't want to ruin these dao so soon.

Dodging a flame whip, he whirled toward a trio, using the blades and their coating of chi-heated air to push aside a fireball, ducking under another. He swiped them together, pushing his energy outward into a shimmering wave of hot air, the wind from his blades combining with his bending that was just short of actual fire.

The men were blown backwards, crying out from the scalding air that swept into their armor and probably burned any exposed skin. Like marching in a desert, he imagined.

Whirling around, Zuko ducked under another flame blast and punched upward, his gloved knuckles slamming into the jaw of another soldier. He could feel the teeth snap together and the man's head fly backward from the force. Zuko watched him only long enough to make sure the man was down for the count. The Prince stood again, feet planted wide in preparation for the start of a whirling blade attack. There was only one man remaining, charging toward him with flames swirling around a pulled back fist.

Behind the man, the Avatar was half-crouched, grey eyes wide and shocked, as if the rug had been swept out from under his feet. The boy was watching him with that expression, not even paying attention to his surroundings anymore.

Turning back to the firebender in time to dart to the side and leap upward, the Prince planted a solid kick to the side of the soldier's helmet, landing in a crouch and watching the man stumble to his knees. A group of firebenders advanced, bigger than the last. Zuko attempted the trick with hot air once more, his Dao flashing in the moonlight, dust kicked up from the blast. The Soldiers reacted quickly, however, drawing up a shield of flame that dispersed his feeble wind before punching forward together.

Zuko crouched down, ready to give away the secret of his firebending to protect his life, until he felt a hand touch his shoulder and the rush of wind filled his ears. His gold eyes opened to the sight of the Avatar crouching in front of him in a twisted stance, wind ripping apart the blasts and creating a circle of fire just beyond its ability to harm them. The ground was beginning to char, heat starting to become unbearable.

From beyond the firestorm, he heard Zhao's obnoxious voice call out.

"Hold your fire!"

The fire ceased, and the boy's whirlwind dispersed, smoke curling up from the heated earth.

"The Avatar must be taken alive."

Through his mask, Zuko could see the smug look on the man's face, confident they could get no further. The final sentence gave him pause, though. Alive? That was good. That was exploitable.

With a quick movement, the Prince moved his blades around the boy's neck, ignoring the sharp gasp and facing Zhao directly. He knew the Blue Spirit mask had a fearsome grin. Hopefully it would get the message across.

For a long moment, they were locked in a stare down, the Admiral's brown eyes locked with his shadowed ones. With a frown, Zhao practically growled his next order.

"Open the gate."

One of the generals spoke up, questioning his order. Zuko held his position, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder.

"Let them out. Now!"

The door creaked open behind him, and he stepped backwards, trying not to nick the Avatar's neck with his blades. He still wasn't entirely sure why the boy hadn't started glowing and tossing around elements like candy, but he was thankful for that fact. Enough of his people had been killed today, in fair battle if not gracefully. He didn't need to add to the death toll with supernatural powers from the spirit world.

The boy's breath was coming in pants, close to panic. They stepped out of the shadow of the gates and into the moonlight, Zuko refusing to turn his back on the fortress. He was risking enough as it was, that there would not be guards outside waiting for them. He didn't need his back peppered with arrows and spears as well.

He heard a voice from inside the wall but did not falter in backing away. Minutes passed, arms trembling from the control needed to hold his blades at the boy's neck for so long without actually hurting him. They reached the crossroads and he chanced a glance backward to check how far away the woods were from their position.

His mind whirled. Would they be able to make a break for it? Had he broken the Avatar's trust too far, and the boy would try to escape immediately... how would he be able to gain it back?

He eyed the fort, watching figures moving in the firelight, yet not attempting to pursue.

His eyes caught the gleam of an arrowhead in the moonlight and he dropped his swords, ducking down and dragging the boy with him.

The shaft quivered from where it hit the ground and he quickly sheathed his swords, grabbing the stunned boy around the forearm and yanking him toward the forest. The kid yelled, but ran alongside him for a moment before overtaking him and dragging the prince behind him.

Once again, Zuko felt the odd feeling of air pushing on his back while simultaneously pulling him forward, legs struggling to keep up with the speed. He felt like he was running down a steep slope, yet he was sure they were on a slight incline.

Another zip of an arrow flew by his head, tossed to the side by winds swirling around the two of them. They reached the forest and the Avatar slowed down marginally, allowing Zuko to dodge and weave through trees at a more realistic pace.

They were both panting by the time they reached a clearing, the morning sun beginning to tint the sky pink and purple.

Zuko sunk down into a crouch, brow furrowing in irritation at the sweat that tickled his temples, unable to wipe it away while his mask still obscured his face. A curl of delight spread through him.

He made it.

He had the Avatar.

Not Zhao, not the Fire Nation. Him. He did.

Well, not captured exactly, but in his grasp and out of the claws of the Admiral who tossed around his power like an untrained komodo-rhino.

The Avatar... didn't even seem wary of him. Even after he had blades to his throat for well over five minutes, was just sitting on a tree root, staring intently at him with a strange expression. It almost seemed... hopeful.

Zuko tilted his head slightly and the boy looked away, curling his legs up to his chest, seeming embarrassed. The prince took this moment to assess his shoulder, rotating his arm back and judging the wound by the twinges in his shoulder. It was strained, and had likely been nearly-dislocated by the fall, but it would heal on its own. He began stretching, trying to reduce the tension that would likely appear later from such a strenuous fight for his life. The Avatar didn't seem to be going anywhere, and Zuko still had no idea how he was actually going to capture him.

It was one thing to chase the boy down, but actually keeping him tied up was an absolute pain.

"Thank you."

The voice startled Zuko into looking up sharply, meeting the gaze of the boy. Grey eyes flicked away for a moment, before peeking back up at him.

"For saving me, I mean. "

The boy pressed his forefingers together, fidgeting strangely. Very strangely. He had seen the kid surprised, anxious, and excited like an overeager puppy-cub, but he hadn't seen this self-conscious, unsure side before. It was definitely weird. He had expected either flight, or a more excitable, bouncing sort of thanks.

He remembered those grey eyes narrowed in the darkness, hands sweeping the wind down to throw men to their doom. Remembered those eyes lighting up with an eerie blue glow, the seas rising up without mercy to punish those who would harm the Avatar.

Zuko nodded to him, sitting down on an adjacent root in order to meditate and try to bring his whirling thoughts into order. His uncle was still in the ocean, his ship not allowed to port in these waters on Admiral Zhao's orders. The small Steamer that he had driven to shore would be conspicuous so quickly after their escape. He had to think of another way.

"Um... My name's Aang."

He glanced up, following the boy's path toward him. When had he stood up? Ugh. Now that the immediate danger was passed, his brain was trying to relax. He needed to stay more alert. This wasn't over.

The kid scratched the back of his head, looking fairly uncomfortable, before sitting down in a tightly-folded meditation stance. The child's head bowed down, fists meeting together at the knuckle, so the blue arrows faced each other. He looked a bit like a rolled-up pill bug.

Grey eyes peeked up at him, still radiating that strange mix of hope and fear.

Not entirely sure what was expected of him, Zuko placed his own knuckles together in mimicry, watching the boy's reactions.

Those eyes lit up first with surprise, then an expression of overwhelming joy spilled over in a wild smile and a shout. Zuko caught himself halfway to his swords as he watched the boy leap all over the clearing, bouncing off trees and flipping wildly. With a whirl of leaves, he landed lightly, bounding across the clearing and tackling the prince in an exuberant hug, talking so quickly that Zuko could barely understand him.

Stiff from the unfamiliar feeling of arms around him, he placed one hand on the boy's shoulder, ready to push him away. The shoulders quaked slightly and the quick words slowed down, their meaning giving Zuko reason to pause.

"...and I thought I would be alone forever because all the airbenders are gone, and I knew they weren't all dead, because that would be just too sad, and I'm so glad I found you, please don't go, you're the only airbender I've seen in -"

His voice broke off with an odd choking sound.

The slim shoulders quaked again, and the boy's bald head pressed into his chest.

Zuko realized the Avatar was crying.

With a strange feeling, he moved his gloved hand on the back of the boy's head. (aang, his mind whispered traitorously) He really didn't have experience with crying people, aside from the few memories of his mother comforting him as a child.

…..

The Avatar thought he was an airbender?

Looking back on the battle, he supposed he could see where the boy was coming from. The Fire Nation employed quite a few tactics with heat during metallurgy and crafting, where flames would leave soot-stains. During battle, pure fire was stronger and easier to throw around, so heat-wave attacks were rarely, if ever used.

His uncle taught him how to heat things without creating fire, just after he began his mission to hunt the Avatar. (To heat tea, of course. Obsessed old man.) It was only desperation that caused him to use it in battle.

From an outside observer, the heat waves did gather up their own wind. Zuko guessed it looked a bit like Airbending to anyone who didn't know about that ability. So, the soldiers would believe he was a rogue firebender, maybe with a background in smithing. It would throw them off his trail, hopefully.

"Everyone said I was the only one left."

He was brought out of his thoughts by the young monk practically in his lap, the sobbing becoming quieter, though his frame was shaking like a leaf. The bright clothing was dull with dust and mud stains, various rips in the fabric showing a white layer of cloth underneath and skin just as pale as the Fire Nation's.

Had he always been this small?

The urge to capture this young boy (only twelve) slipped away, leaving a sad sort of resignation behind.

Statistics and numbers were different on paper, than they were in person.

Killing a man in battle was different than seeing a family torn apart by the loss. Feeling fear and desperation in a quest to find a hundred-year-old master of all elements was different than facing down a twelve-year-old airbender. Knowing that his nation had exterminated anyone living in the Air Temples was different than holding a boy who had everyone he knew and loved ripped away.

And now that boy thought he was an Airbender. He really didn't want to see the kid's face when he found out that it wasn't true.


	2. Chapter 2

Aang watched the man in the Blue Spirit mask start to stretch out his arms, looking like he was testing his movement. Had he been injured? Hopefully not. It would suck if someone else got hurt because of him. Again.

That mask was seriously freaky, though pretty effective for making enemies afraid. He had seen firsthand how the dark grey body suit blended into shadows, making the white and blue mask gleam in stark contrast. It almost looked like it was floating.

Aang remembered his days with the other Monks, playing airball and games of chance. He remembered the laughing pats on the head from elder monks and the cold dread curling in his gut when he found out a hundred years had passed.

He remembered the skull and necklace of his teacher, half-buried under snow, bleached from the years exposed to the sun. His chest tightened. Aang watched the older man like an eagle-hawk, searching for that graceful movement that all air monks had, subtly moving with the wind.

The man had a light step, and from the fighting he had been able to see while leaping around and fighting for his own life, the man seemed to favor dodging and moving in quick, tight circles. Not exactly the defensive stance he had learned in the temples, but he had never seen airbending used alongside blades. Maybe it was more effective this way?

His chest tightened again. Another airbender.

Oh spirits, he hoped he had seen right, and it hadn't been a trick of the moonlight and his own exhaustion. If he really wasn't alone any more...

His brows knitted, hand coming up to scrub at his eyes before being placed on his lap, pale grey eyes focusing on the masked man once more.

Airbender or not, this guy saved his life. He was probably being terribly rude, just staring at him. He couldn't help it, though. Seriously! If that guy really was an Airbender... (And Aang really believed he was - Those Fire Nation guys were blasted backwards!) Then he wouldn't have to be alone any more. He took a deep breath, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt.

"Thank you... For saving me, I mean."

The mask's dark eyes were focused on him, the fearsome fanged grin aimed directly at him. Yeah, definitely good at intimidation. Aang looked away and fidgeted, pressing his fingers together in an attempt to gather up his confidence again. Why did it have to fail now of all times?

The sharp nod from the mask soothed some of his worries. (He had acknowledgement. Acceptance. Spirits, he had approval from an elder.)

He had to impress this guy somehow, to make him confirm for sure, that he was an Airbender. Were his hands trembling? He pressed his forefingers together harder, trying to hide the tremors in his movements.

Aang watched the guy sit down out of the corner of his eye, folding his legs up into a relaxed meditation stance. A sudden flash of inspiration hit and Aang jumped off the root, letting air cushion his steps automatically.

Respect, right? He wanted the guy to teach him. No, he wanted the guy to stay with him. They were the last of their kind, right? His throat tightened again. They needed to stick together.

Yeah. His thoughts were turning in dizzying circles. Was he even thinking clearly? This was important. They had to stick together. So he had to convince the Blue Spirit guy to stay with him, to teach him. To be his mentor, and he'd be Blue's student, and he could learn how to songbend because Gyatso never got around to teaching him, and maybe Blue would tell him about any other airbenders-

Aang broke off his thought, knowing that path only led to heartbreak.

This man... This masked man was an Airbender. They were the last of their kind. Aang needed him. As an Airbender and as a teacher, not as someone obliged to the Avatar. It didn't matter that he was the Avatar, or even that he was a Master Airbender. He still didn't know all of the Air Nomad's history or old stories... and now with the rest of the monks wiped out, those stories seemed so much more important. They were on the verge of being forgotten forever.

How to start?

With the basics, he guessed.

His brain stuttered to a stop, the formal words slipping from his grasp like loose grains of sand. It was supposed to be ceremonial, elegant in verse and promising the loyalty and trust of the student, while returning guardianship and guidance from the teacher. He had preformed it years ago, when he became Monk Gyatso's disciple. His foggy memories of childhood scattering away, leaving only small flashes behind.

He already approached, he already started, He had to go through with it! What were the words! He scratched the back of his head, trying to rein in his self consciousness. He opened his mouth.

"Um... My name's Aang."

The mask's dark eyes were pinned to him again, mask following him slightly.

His heart skipped a beat and Aang plopped down on the ground, trying to reign in the whirlwind of self-admonition and anxiety coursing through him. How inelegant could he get! That was a terrible introduction! He needed to be calm. Calm! What were the steps?

Introduction, greeting... statement of purpose... Ceremonial exchange of prayer-beads? Oh man, he forgot about that. Too late now. It was the first two steps that mattered most, anyway. He presented himself as an apprentice willing to learn, and if the elder wanted to accept him, he'd repeat the gesture, showing that they were equals, partners in learning.

Yes. That was it. And if the guy didn't repeat the gesture, either he though Aang was a total idiot, not worthy of learning, or he wasn't an airbender.

Aang pressed his fists together, the knuckles interlocking in a way that, although it would not stop a determined bender with a sharp breath, would still stop most of the more deadly attacks. He bowed his head, offering himself to the elder with respect. Although...

He glanced up through his eyelashes, watching the man's posture straighten slightly, the mask still pinning him down with its dark gaze.

Why was he even wearing it? To hide from the soldiers was a good bet, but why hadn't he taken it off, even when stretching and tending his wounds? What if he didn't accept him?

What if he just walked away, and went on living as an Airbender all alone, and they would both be alone forever...

But what if he accepted?

The wait seemed to sing through his muscles, anxiety curling thicker in his stomach with every moment the mask just stared at him without moving. Did the guy even know this ceremony? It was pretty common at the temples, for boys who showed promise, or needed more guided discipline.

Suddenly, the man was moving, hands placed together and knuckles interlocking in the proper gesture of acceptance.

Acceptance.

Aang's mind stuttered to a halt for a split second before roaring back to life, Joy crashing through his body. He let out a shout, leaping up and twisting with the winds, enjoying the feeling of flight and overwhelming happiness. He wasn't alone! He was accepted, He had a teacher, an elder to guide him!

He had a partner, a fellow airbender.

He wasn't alone.

His heart threatening to burst from his chest, he lunged forward, pulling the wind through his fingers like delicate spiderwebs reaching forward and twisting just so. Aang landed with a thump against the man's midsection, faintly surprised he hadn't bowled the man over. He started talking, spitting out the thanks that was required by ceremony, mixed with his personal thoughts and worries. This was an Airbender and an Elder. He could fix everything.

Well, maybe not fix everything, but he could definitely help, and Aang wouldn't have to do this alone, with the death of the Air Nomads on his shoulders. They weren't all dead.

He hadn't failed so completely.

He wasn't alone.

Aang continued talking, despite feeling his throat tighten and his words harder to pronounce. Tears welled up, blurring his vision and spilling down his cheeks in warm rivers. He choked on his last word, feeling embarrassed that he was losing composure so easily in front of this stranger. (But he was an airbender.)

Aang pressed his forehead into the man's chest, trying to hide his tears and take comfort at the same time, willing back the sobs that threatened to overtake him.

He felt a gloved hand on the back of his head, comforting.

He remembered Monk Gyatso patting the top of his head, a game of Pai Sho, bright sunlight warming his cheeks with the sound of his peers playing in the background.

They were gone.

They were all gone, but he still had one left.

Only one.

Still, he had someone.

He felt slightly betrayed, though he knew his friends didn't know any better. They didn't know there was still another airbender wandering the land.

"Everyone said I was the only one left."

Aang's voice was raw from his smothered sobs, his shoulders shaking as he choked down another one. The glove on his head pressed down slightly, offering sympathy. He wasn't pushed away, or admonished for showing weakness.

He reached forward, grasping the dark shirt of his elder and butting his head harder into the chest.

Breathing out, Aang tried to rein himself back into some sort of composure. He took a deep breath, leaning back and releasing the man's shirt, though he was loath to shake off the warm hand. It was comforting.

He took a deep breath again, reaching his arm up to wipe away the tears with his forearm (Oh man, his shirt was totally dirty. He probably looked like a wreck.)

The man in the mask still hadn't said anything... in fact, he hadn't heard any sounds this entire time. Was he even able to talk? He saw the mask with greater clarity than before, sunlight streaming down, casting dappled shadows against the white and blue painted wood.

Sunlight?

His friends! Frozen Wood Frogs! They were probably dying of those horrible coughs and he was sitting around crying his eyes out! A jolt of energy shot through him once more, and he jumped slightly with his realization, looking around wildly before focusing back on the masked man (His elder, his airbender.)

"Hey, um... so I'm sorry to be demanding this early, but I really need to find some frozen frogs for my friends. They're sick, and this old lady said they needed to suck on them."

He waited anxiously for approval, not entirely sure what he would do if he was denied.

These were his friends. They trusted him, put their lives in his hands.

But this was an airbender, the last of his people! The only thing standing between him and the total genocide of his race. The destruction of his history!

If he refused...

Aang wasn't sure what he'd do.

||||||||||||||||| Has anyone seen my bison whistle? ||||||||||||||||||||

If Zuko was startled at the sudden shift in attitude, he tried not to show it. Obviously, something had happened in their exchange to gain the Avatar's (aang's) complete trust. Well, aside from the obvious 'The prince is now an Airbender' assumption.

He still wasn't sure what to make of this situation.

His mind was churning away at the information available, trying to come up with the best solution. He couldn't follow the Avatar. Not with his uncle waiting for him, and his steamer just lying around on a secluded shore. It was only a matter of time before patrols found the boat and concluded the banished prince had trespassed into forbidden waters.

With him missing, they would likely turn on his uncle.

No, he had to get back before they found out.

The Avatar, though... didn't seem to want to part ways. It was troublesome, and would probably give him stress headaches later, but this advantage shouldn't be left alone.

He was still thinking in terms of 'Capture the avatar'

He couldn't just... abandon his quest. He may be banished, without honor enough to present himself as part of the royal court, but he wasn't so gone that his family didn't matter. He wasn't so dishonored that he would betray his father and uncle.

What would Uncle say about this, anyway? A confusing proverb, probably.

Zuko sighed quietly, bending down to find a long, thin stick. He still didn't trust the boy not to just run away and never return. He didn't exactly have a good track record for keeping his word.

He swept the leaves to the side with one foot, drawing a rough line of land with trees, and a x right beneath it. Above the trees, he drew a crescent moon, and two stick figures meeting in the center.

Wondering what the world was coming to, Zuko backed off, inviting the Avatar to look at his scribbles from the correct angle.

"You want to meet here again? Tomorrow night?

He nodded.

"How do I know you're not going to just run away!"

Zuko gave him a long stare, wondering the same thing. How would he be able to justify returning? Why did he even want to?

He had saved the boy's life, and spared him the attempt to capture him. That alone was going against every tendency a loyal Fire Nation citizen should have. He was sent out to capture the Avatar. Well, here was the Avatar, sitting in front of him, practically begging to follow him into a trap. It would be so easy, too. Just tell his soldiers to surround the glade and wait for the airbender to appear. He wouldn't risk the boy flying around his ship again. Just hog-tie and put him in a sack or something.

But... He still remembered the boy spilling his heart out, grasping his shirt like the last lifeline before an abyss.

With a huffing sigh, Zuko raised his fists and placed them together in whatever signal caused the boy to flip around before. He supposed it was something like 'I can be trusted' in Airbender tradition.

The boy bit his lip, looking anxious. Those grey eyes were pinned on his hands for a moment, before flicking back up to his mask and looking away. He shifted a bit, and took a small step back.

"So... Tonight. At midnight. I'll... I'll be here."

Suddenly, the boy was airborn, leaping from branch to branch.

"Don't forget!"

Zuko shook his head at the voice calling back to him, tossing the stick to the leaf litter.

He had a ship to catch, and desperately needed a nap.


	3. Chapter 3

The journey back had been fairly short, but the automatic movements needed to drive the tiny ship was enough to let his mind wander.  
He considered the options given to him. It was strange, that after so long, this opportunity presented itself.  
He could set a trap for the Avatar. It would be easy enough, with the soldiers available to him. However, if Zhao were to find out about his capture, the man would likely have him arrested for hiding information about the Avatar...and then take the boy as his own captive. He didn't think Zhao would be so kind to the young airbender a second time around.

Another option was just ignoring the offer. He could sit back, wait a few days and let the boy think the 'Blue Spirit' ran away, then pick up his trail again at a later point. His mind trailed back to the encounter, the tiny airbender (only a child) sobbing against his chest. The boy was alone, even more than Zuko was, for the banished prince had his uncle and the knowledge that his family was alive, even if they didn't accept him.  
That child... was the last Airbender.  
Zuko's mind was made up.

His golden eyes narrowed, spotting his ship sitting placidly in the waves, the silhouette of his uncle clearly standing on the prow, waiting for him. How he would pull off this plan was another thing entirely.  
The sun was nearly to its apex when Zuko finally arrived at his ship, the little steamer pulled into its belly and tucked away for later use.

As he emerged from the belly of the ship, the sunlight struck his face. It was lovely, the feeling of energy and life seeping into his skin, even granting a faint sensation of warmth into his scar.  
Shaking off the instinctual urge to just sit and sunbathe, he strode forward, meeting the man who was already striding toward him with arms open for a hug. With a sigh, he allowed the embrace. As soon as the arms released him, he was stepping back and turning on his heel.

"I have a new lead on the Avatar. I'll be in my chambers, and I don't want to be interrupted."

His uncle's soft voice followed him.  
"Are you going to inform Admiral Zhao?"

"No, uncle. He can either respect my authority as a prince, or accept that I've been... sent away on a mission about the avatar, beyond the touch of the Military."  
Iroh frowned slightly at the obvious avoidance of 'banished'

"Either way, he should accept that he has no authority over me, nor my crew."  
Zuko took a deep breath, casting his eyes around his cabin for any materials he could bring that would not give him away. More rope would be good. Some rations, maybe? Oh, definitely a healing kit.

"I'd like you to continue following the Avatar's trail by sea. I'll inform my men later today, that your will is to be treated as my own."  
"Do you believe you are in danger, Prince Zuko?"  
His uncle's quiet voice stopped the sharp movements around his cabin, placing the pack on his table. He gave a long look at the old general, noticing the sharp eyes and stiff posture.

"I have a lead." He repeated, turning away and giving a long look to map hanging on his wall, before concluding it was too large and conspicuous.  
"I don't think I'll be in danger, following it, and I don't think I'll be in danger if I stayed on the ship," He scowled. "I'm not running away." He heard a soft sigh behind him.

"I never said you were, nephew. Forgive an old man's worries. But, if you're giving me control of the ship, how long do you think you'll be gone?'  
Zuko sat down on his bed, idly noting that he wouldn't be able to sleep on a proper mattress for a while after today.  
"Hopefully no more than a week at a time. I'll check in as often as possible without being suspicious. I want to figure out some things that I can't exactly do with a platoon behind me."

Iroh watched him for a moment, mulling over his nephew's words. When he spoke next, his words were carefully enunciated, with a tone of blithe innocence.  
"Do you have a disguise? You're fairly recognizable, after all."  
Zuko was slightly surprised that his uncle was giving in so easily, having expected more protests from the protective man.  
"I do, but I haven't figured out how to mask my voice."  
His uncle nodded, stroking his beard.

"Your voice is sounding strained from all the shouting you've been doing, nephew. Are you sure you don't need some tea for your journey? I'm sure I have a soothing jasmine blend stored away somewhere."  
Zuko's eyebrow twitched.

"I don't want any tea, uncle, I -" He cut himself short, mind racing. He had yelled a lot, hadn't he. The prince could honestly say he didn't remember a conflict with the Avatar where he hadn't been shouting most of the time. Had they ever heard him speak normally?  
Well, that probably wouldn't be enough. A whisper, maybe, would be unrecognizable. He would also have to find some reason to keep on his mask at all times. That would probably be the most suspicious, and most necessary tool in keeping his identity to himself.

Zuko inwardly winced at the idea of having his vision so limited for such a length of time. No peripheral at all. His damaged eye already had trouble seeing anything more than a squint, he didn't need to handicap the other one as well.

Realizing he had stopped in the middle of a sentence, he continued, pretending the long pause had never happened.  
"Thank you for the offer, uncle, but I don't know if I'll have time to brew any, let alone enjoy it."  
His uncle chuckled heartily, lifting his hand off his beard with a wave.

"Of course, enjoying tea is something that should never be rushed. It would be a shame to lose the leaves to a hastily made brew. I'll leave you to your plans. It's really too bad that you'll be missing music night. You really are an excellent Tsungi horn player."  
His uncle left the room, and Zuko could hear him begin to hum an old folk song down the hallway.

That man... He could never tell if he was being misunderstood or simply read like an open book. General or not, Zuko had never met a man more capable of getting under people's skin. He should have been a diplomat, instead of a soldier. But... if his uncle approved of this crazy idea, then perhaps it had some merit.  
Perhaps running into this half-cocked idea could be worth something, if he worked it right. What was he doing, anyway? Following the Avatar? Posing as an Airbender? It was only so long until they caught him without a mask. How would he sleep? What if the habits ground into him since childhood gave away his position as nobility.. and with his luck, THAT would be what blew his cover, especially compared to the people he was traveling with.

Who knew how barbaric those Water Tribes could be, in their huts. Peh. This was ridiculous. At least the Air Nomads didn't club wild tiger-seals for dinner.  
Air Nomads... The Avatar.  
Zuko sighed, leaning down to pluck a whetting stone from a lower shelf to place in his knapsack. His honor demanded that he fulfill his father's request. Ozai had won the Agni Kai, and thus had won whatever dispute they would have had. Zuko was obligated to fufill whatever terms were set.

His Father had shown mercy. If any other man had spoken up, and shown such disrespect, the man would have been killed. Even in the final blow, his father did not strike to kill, like he had encouraged others to do. He had spared his son. He had banished him with the chance of forgiveness.  
His father did love him.

With a long sigh, Zuko allowed his firebending to curl around the candles in the room, flaring them higher for a moment. He released them and sat upon his mattress, removing the armor that had become second-nature to wear. Placing them atop the storage chest, Zuko stripped off his shirt and toed his shoes off, slipping under the thin covers.

Their ships were warm, heated by the fires that powered it. There was no need for thick a thick duvet or layers of blankets.  
Staring at the ceiling with his hands over his chest, he thought about this... plan.  
Going after the Avatar... even with his face and voice disguised, there was still the chance of accidentally losing it in battle, or breaking it. In the daylight, his eyes would likely be visible, and Zuko was wary about obscuring his vision with a black netting.

How long was he going to keep this charade up, anyway. How long could he? There was a tense sort of thrill in the idea of traveling with his enemy, posing as a friend. However... that brought up betrayal. If his Identity is revealed, that group probably would not take it well. He heard the Airbending monks practiced nonviolence, and did not believe in revenge. Water Tribe, however... had a healthy vengeful streak

Eyes beginning to slide shut, his mind drifted back to the three-year quest that had driven him to explore the waters of the world.  
At thirteen years old, he was hunting for a legendary figure that was said to be able to topple an entire nation. A hundred-year-old master with power over all four elements and the blessings of the spirits. How could he have fought such a being?

For three years, he agonized over this prospect, as well as the crushing helplessness at finding someone who hadn't been seen in a hundred years. Who may as well not exist. For those three years, he was chasing the wind.  
It was a mixture of dread and delight when he saw the strange light while sailing past the southern pole. The entire way to that location, he imagined possibilities. (And then the second flare helped his navigator pinpoint the area to arrive at, so they wouldn't get lost moving around the giant ice floes.)

When he was met by a young airbender, his first reaction was an indignant exclamation. He was affronted that his goal was a child, but privately nearly trembling with relief, that he would actually be able to manage this deed. He wouldn't have to die trying. He probably wasn't going to be slaughtered. He was only sixteen.  
There was a whisper in the back of his mind, then and now. 'These fears... you were sent on a hopeless quest. It is only by the grace of the spirits the Avatar returned when it did'

His own thoughts shoved away, Zuko drifted off to sleep.

'your father wanted you to suffer and die in dishonor, searching for a man who didn't exist.'

||||||||||||| Cat-Owls are actually quite adorable |||||||||||

Aang was thoughtful as he bounded through the trees toward the icy swamp ahead. He was excited, yes. So very excited and hopeful and relieved (and just a touch resentful, at his friends for trying to make him believe his people had all been wiped out)

The wind swirled around his feet, buoying him up and lending him an extra speed boost. Bursting from the tree line, he floated down to the icy sludge, shivering as his legs sunk into the mud once more. Time to gather some frogs.

As he methodically scoured the bottom of the pools of water, his thoughts began to wander again.  
There was someone for him, who was returning tomorrow night, and who recognized him as someone they would protect. An important person.  
Something niggled his mind, like a conversation he remembered having, but couldn't recall the details.

Well... he hoped the man was coming back. The ceremony was all well and good, but he couldn't help the doubts that crept up his spine like hungry iguana-spiders. The man hadn't spoke the entire evening. Was he even able to?

What if his teacher... wasn't able to talk? If he had to mime everything, it would be really hard to learn anything from him, at a reasonable pace. He didn't know what skill level the man was at, anyway. Aang was considered a Master by the temple standards, but he had a feeling his power was more due to being the Avatar, than anything he personally achieved.  
It put a sour taste in his mouth.

Being the Avatar... How could he appreciate any of his skills, when he didn't know which ones were made of his own merit, and which ones were bled through from past lives?  
With a heavy sigh, Aang placed the last of the frozen frogs in his inner breast pocket, feeling their cold forms clink together against his chest. The feeling of mud, new and old, pretty much saturated him.

He felt exhausted, dirty and confused. What a night.  
Tracing his way back the camp, he was initially frightened to find items strewn all over, from dead animals to camp supplies and pieces of armor and jewelry. At first, he thought their camp had been attacked.

The adrenaline rush died back down when he saw Katar and Sokka right where he left them, Momo curled next to the waterbender with a wooden spoon cuddled against his furry chest. With a huff of a laugh, he imagined one of them asking the flying lemur to fetch something, only to send him out when the critter didn't grab the right thing. Katara was even wearing a crown.  
Was that real gold?

With the jolt fading, his energy seemed to sap out of him as well. With a smothered yawn, he shoved a frog in each of his friend's mouths, quietly telling them to suck on them.  
He puttered around their area, sorting through the random items that his furry friend had retrieved. There was a fair amount of dead bugs and small animals, along with sticks and torn strips of cloth. Rusting cups, old satchels... actually, that was pretty useful. He bet Katara could probably fix that up fairly easily.  
With a spark of interest, he began placing the items in different piles, with the completely useless items and unfortunate bodies being tossed (or respectfully placed) outside their shelter.

He ended up with a smallish pile of usable items and an even smaller pile of potentially trade-valuable items. Seriously, was that crown made of real gold? Where on earth did Momo get that from?

The young monk glanced up at the snoozing creature, hoping it hadn't been stolen from some important person who would be looking for the lost item. Placing it at the top of the small pile, he wandered over to the pair of dazed water tribe, whose frogs were beginning to thaw out. Tugging them out of their mouths (sokka managed an indignant 'Hey!') he replaced them with less-thawed frogs from his shirt pocket. Dully registering that he had only collected four frogs, he decided to end the day.  
Aang dragged his feet over to Appa's tail, flopping down into the fluffy fur and curling up slightly. His eyes drifted shut and his mind drifted back to the airbender he had encountered. His mind wandered around the different skill levels of benders before drifting away.  
There was a perceived moment of darkness before his mind churned to life.

He dreamed of Kuzon, the two of them exploring a garden in the fire nation. Back when the Fire Nation was just beginning its industrial age and the peace, though strained, still held. The air was rich with the smell of blooming flowers, the buzz of humming-bees flitting past and chirping of wood crickets. There was a small raised fountain full of smooth river rocks inside. Aang was playing with the gold and white dragon-koi in the fountain, tickling their scales and giggling when they wrapped their whiskers around his finger.

"Why do you think you're not going to be a strong firebender? I think you're plenty strong now, and you're still learning... And you're only like, eight."  
"Because of my eyes," replied Kuzon.  
"Huh?"

"It has to do with the body and spirit. Like you'll only find Airbenders with grey eyes."  
"Um... Okay?" Kuzon threw a leaf at him, which fluttered uselessly down between them.  
"Stop being dumb, you should know this already. The nations each have their own 'look' right?" Aang lifted an eyebrow at the quotation marks drawn into the air by his friend's fingers, turning back to the fish and stroking along its side.

"Like... Fire Nation tends to have pale skin and light brown eyes, right?" Kuzon gestured to himself, sitting down next to the fountain. Aang nodded absently, gently tugging on one of the wing-like fins of the dragon-Koi. He responded with a sigh.

"The Water Tribes have blue eyes and darker skin, and the Earth Kingdom has a sort of tan, and Green eyes. I knoooowwww." Aang pouted when the fish darted away, apparently having enough of his hassling. It started doing small loops at the other end of the fountain. Sulking, probably.  
"Anyway, what does eye color have to do with bending skill?"

"The eye colors aren't just for the different nations - they're for benders in particular. You can get people with brown or hazel eyes in nearly any nation. The brighter colors matter, though. Have you ever seen someone with dark grey or brown eyes, who was a particularly great Airbender?"  
Aang blinked, tilting his head and resting it on the fountain's edge.

"Hmm... Not really. Monk Gyatso's eyes are like mine, all kinda silvery, and I know some of the girls at the Eastern Temple also have light eyes... Are you sure you know what you're talking about?"  
"But they're all benders, right? I heard everyone at the temples knows how to Airbend. What about the Air Nomads who just live on the island? The ones not in temples and befriending sky bison."  
Aang sat up abruptly.

"There are Air Nomads who don't live in temples?"

Kuzon gave him a flat look.  
"Are you sure you're not an idiot?"  
"No, seriously, what?"

His friend huffed, folding his arms and eyeing the young monk with furrowed eyebrows.  
"Your people are called the Air Nomads for a reason... not Temple-dwellers or Compass-points or something stupid like that. Your leaders live at the temples, but the rest of your people are kinda..." Kuzon flapped his hand in the air.  
"Nomadic?"

Light brown eyes shot him a dirty look.  
"The word I was looking for was 'Scattered' but yes, Nomadic is also right. Like all my people don't live in the Royal Palace, not all your people live in the temples. Is that clear enough for you?"  
A long pause.

"What does this have to do about eye color anyway?"  
Kuzon gave him a look.  
"What?"

"What do they teach you, anyway?" Kuzon muttered and Aang leaned sideways to push his shoulder against the other boy's.  
"Plenty of stuff. Like how to fall off a cliff and not die, how to bake delicious pies, how to ride air currents, or how to do THIS!"  
From under his cloak, he whipped out a trio of marbles, whipping them in tight circles between two palms. He shot a cheeky grin to his friend, who looked amused but not terribly impressed.

"You added a third marble from last time."  
"Yep!" Aang's chirp was nothing less than gleeful, and he snatched his marbles out of the air before Kuzon could swipe them (like he tried last time) and began rolling them around in his palm.  
"You've never seen a dark-eyed airbender, but you've seen the Royal family, right? They all had gold eyes."  
Aang nodded.

"All of the Royal Family are powerful firebenders... well, anyone of direct bloodline. People marrying in don't necessarily... Anyway! Different colored eyes show that the person is particularly strong in spirit or something like that, so if someone has a certain eye color, that means they're a strong bender, or will be someday."  
Aang folded his legs together, peering at his friend with interest.

"Strong Firebenders tend to have much lighter, yellowish eyes. The Royal Family is especially known for their dragon-like gold color."  
Kuzon paused, picking at some dirt under his nail for a moment before continuing.  
"A gold-eyed firebender has a hard time seeing in darkness, but they're great at spotting sparks and things that gleam."  
The monk's eyes lit up and an excited grin spread across his face.

"Like a heron-viper!" He brought his arm up to mimic the movement while he spoke, the 'head' waving back and forth.  
Kuzon raised an eyebrow, and Aang made snapping motions with the 'head' before explaining his thought.  
"They can sense heat to strike at prey on land, but their eyes automatically focus on things that sparkle and gleam. So, if you want to distract a firebender, throw something sparkly, right?"

"We're not birds, featherbrain."  
Aang snickered at his friend and tossed a marble at him with a quick motion. He was surprised when fingers snatched the tiny metallic ball out of the air, plucked like a lechee berry.

"I'm sure 'sparkle' sounds like a lame weakness, but it's actually pretty useful for spotting things thrown at us."

Kuzon flung the marble back, waiting for Aang to fumble with it in the air before jumping to his feet and shouting dramatically.  
"Suprise attack! Thousand palms~"  
Aang yelped and tumbled backwards, catching himself just in time to jump to the side, avoiding his friend's open-handed swats. Laughing wildly, he returned the swatting, facing away and flailing his arms in his friend's direction.  
The surroundings swam out of focus, and when he looked back at Kuzon, those laughing brown eyes transforming into the shimmer of gold and white scales, surrounded by blue water.


End file.
